I joked that my departure from the BBC, an organisation I had been at for 20 years, was similar to when poor old Brooks Hatlen left Shawshank prison.

Brooks had been there for 50 years and when he was finally free the world had changed, he no longer recognised it. He didn’t know anyone and he couldn’t adjust to life outside the clink. He longs to go back as he can’t see a life for himself outside and eventually he hanged himself.

Don’t worry. I’m not going to do that. I’m more than happy if a little anxious at times.

The similarities are that I’m suddenly out in the world and having to adjust, without any real plan as to what I’m going to do. It’s both exciting and scary. But there was no way I could stay where I was.

Dear fellas, I can’t believe how fast things move on the outside. I saw an automobile once when I was a kid, but now they’re everywhere. The world went and got itself in a big damn hurry.

Brooks Hatlen, in a letter to Andy and Red

When I first started writing for one of the BBC’s local websites we barely got any traffic. We longed for hits and engagement. We would put so much into what we did without anyone really looking at it. There was no social media in 2002 and so no real way of promoting what you did, unless you got lucky.

Just to show how long ago this was, people contributing to a story couldn’t send jpgs via e-mail because they were too heavy – there was also no Dropbox or WeTransfer etc. Instead they had to post photographs via Royal Mail and when we eventually received them, we had to scan them into the computer. And then when we put them in a web template we had to reduce the quality to make sure they were a maximum of 4k to 7k! This was so the pages would actually load up on people’s computers. Video, incidentally, was virtually pointless.

This makes me sound old. It’s like when my electrician Dad, in the 1990s, would tell apprentices that he remembered steam trains going past his house. He was my age now, 42, but they thought he was ancient. It just amused him. It still makes me laugh. He never felt old to me, still doesn’t. I’m only 22 years behind him.

I’ve got better care than Brooks ever had and I’ll be fine. I have plenty of choices and security to keep things ticking over for a while. I know people with big important jobs with huge salaries, but they never seem happy, just permanently stressed and chasing the next thing up the career ladder. They’re welcome to it. One day they’ll look back and wonder what happened.

Some of my ex-colleagues said I was brave to go, to take that step out into the world, leaving behind the comfort of a decent salary along with the other things I’d got used to having. But that was the problem. It was all too cosy and when that happens boredom and contempt creeps in. I couldn’t waste my life anymore. This was my problem and I had to do something about it. I didn’t go against my will.

For years I’d seen people go through the motions, complain all the time but sit there quietly when redundancies came up, not budging, letting people get moved on when they could have made a decision to help others. I didn’t want to be that person. I couldn’t let anyone go who didn’t want to. I’m not motivated by money or status, but by happiness and doing the right thing.

I’m taking my time. Going for the right projects. But for now I’m more than happy being Kevin (pictured), the stay at home dad from the excellent sitcom Motherland. I’ve spent so much time with my children recently, making up for lost days and hours after doing shifts for 10 years which would see me missing weekends, bedtimes and waking-up times. I’m now there for drop-offs, pick-ups and homework (aarghhh). I love it.

It’s nice not to be in a damn hurry.